


the roses in orlais;

by bloodynargles



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, NSFW, Orlais, cullen has dirty thoughts.odt, josie and leliana are mentioned, josie/neha is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn't noticed the lady until she had spoken, some kind of mix between an Orlesian accent and.....one of the Free Marches? Either way, Neha's eyes dart to her right and her shoulders slacken, clearly they knew each other, and Cullen was in the dark. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the lady of amethysts and pearls;

**Author's Note:**

> @cullen why am i writing you decently well all of a sudden like what the fuck?

“And what of your family, Inquisitor? Have you contacted them since the war ended?” Neha plays with her fingers restlessly, and Cullen jostles a bit in his now rather snug armour, a reminder on his mind to see if he could get some things adjusted – the tailor would be a _little_ too pleased to see him, of course. “I uh... No. I find myself unsure on what to say, exactly. Would 'hello, i'm alive!' be a little too... ah.” A sigh comes from her chest, and it occurs to him that having this conversation, right _now_ , was probably a little too public, but honestly he didn't quite know how to make conversation. “Perhaps I can get Josie to do it for me – although she might bully me into writing it instead..”

 

“Oh, how much of a dilemma, dear Inquisitor.”

 

He hadn't noticed the lady until she had spoken, some kind of mix between an Orlesian accent and.....one of the Free Marches? Either way, Neha's eyes dart to her right and her shoulders slacken, clearly they knew each other, and Cullen was in the dark. Again. “Or you could just do that, I suppose.” Its mumbled, and the lady smiles before turning to him, offering her hand and he freezes slightly, bright purple eyes – they seemed to _shine_ , they were vastly usual for what he had seen, beautiful and seemingly mesmerizing – almost gazing directly into his soul. “I don't believe I introduced myself, Commander. I am Lady Arietta Trevelyan-Valmont, an almost princess of Orlais, and your Inquisitor's dear older half sister.” He breathes out steadily through his mouth and takes her hand softly between his own, a gesture of respect – somewhere he's hoping she's less arrogant than the Orlesians they encounter daily. “Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Inquisition, my Lady.” “Oh, I am quite educated on who you are, exactly.” She raises a carefully tended to eyebrow and somewhere a pang of fear rises within him. As with all older sisters, he can bet she had done _extensive_ research the second she learned of her younger sister's colleagues, and on his past? He can guarantee she has some chosen words on that. “-But yet, your appearance at the winter ball did enough for that, the other women – and men – in court seemed very interested in what... ah, your private life.” He can feel heat on his cheeks and out of the corner of his eye he can see Neha glaring daggers at her sister, although to no effect on the Lady.

 

“Anyway, I suppose I shall send word to father about your blood still pumping through your veins... and the fact that your hand did not kill you. He will be delighted, simply put.” Arietta makes a face at the Inquisitor, her chest heaving against the fairly untraditional wears of a lady in the Orlesian court – Leliana had educated him one night. Against his will. The jewels that sparkled around her neck and in her ears drew him away from listening to the sibling's conversation for a moment, light catching the precious stones every time she moved slightly, or the sun came flitting through the windows behind them. They were purple, possibly amethysts, _definitely_ showing off her title and high status among the regular ladies and duchesses that littered the court. Her soft teal skirts seemed to float behind her, delicate sewing making them look as though they were weaved with gold. The decadence continues up, a darker green almost velveteen making up her sleeves before it gives way to her rather plain teal corset, simple pearls attached to the top and nothing more – but he supposes she rather gives off the 'give me respect' feeling when she wanders into a room. She has her head held high, and somewhere it reminds him of how Madame Vivenne was toward him, but Arietta's seems more.... fought for.

 

He tunes back into their conversation somewhere around Neha blubbering at something clearly incriminating her sister had said, a deep blush rising on the younger one's cheeks before she slinks away to lick her wounds. Violet orbs flicker to him and he resists the urge to shiver under her gaze – not that it was _cold_ , but he had found himself rather enamoured with those eyes and to have her look at him, he felt almost privileged. “I may have scared her away.” A smirk works its way upon pink lips and a perverted part of him wonders what they would look like ravaged by kisses, mouth open in a soft oh as he dips his head between her thighs, a fantasy he was sure was going to make its way into his thoughts at a later date. Not that he _would_ complain. “Not for ill reasons, I hope, My Lady.” “Oh, Arie, please. Maker should bless you if you had to call me that constantly.” “You do not pronounce the r?” “It is the way my mother said it, before... ah. Forgive me, there are things I do not wish to speak of.” “Showing feelings at court is not warranted?” His raised eyebrow sets off a small giggle on her part, and he smirks softly at her light blush. “Not at _all_ , Commander.”

 

They speak for a few moments more, before she swans away with an excuse that people will talk, and how scandalous would that be? The Inquisition's Commander and the Inquisitor's Lady sister! He had made a remark that at least they were using their mouths for something, and her reply was still ringing in his ears. “Oh, yes. At least they are not yelling. But then again, couldn't _my_ mouth being doing something.. better?” There was a flash of naughtiness in her eyes that made something stir within him, and no doubt power him through cold, lonely nights in Skyhold. _Maker_.

 


	2. the lady lion;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition is invited to many balls throughout Orlais, and most likely during every one you will find half the guests swarmed around him. Fawning over how 'handsome' he looks or asking peering questions about his very personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw warning. seriously.

The Inquisition is invited to many balls throughout Orlais, and most likely during every one you will find half the guests swarmed around him. Fawning over how 'handsome' he looks or asking peering questions about his _very_ personal life. He can quite remember one of them asking bluntly if he was into men, and, of course he had had thoughts when he was young, but in recent years it not had crossed his mind, either way, it was not appropriate for speaking of, to a stranger, right there and then. He had spluttered and stuttered through it until Leliana had noticed his blight and came to the very much needed rescue. Tonight, though – tonight was different. They seemed to..avoid him? No, no they still looked at him and spoke of him in little groups while watching him, but they were on the other side of the room, and Cullen was rather perplexed at the sudden shift in behaviour – not that he didn't welcome it, of course. The peacefulness was rather nice, he was almost relaxed. Almost.

 

“No _admirers_ , tonight, then?” She has a habit of sneaking up on him, doesn't she? Her tone sounds almost smug and his heart is in his mouth when he realises that this was _her_ doing. “How?” Not even Leliana could shift the masses of guests that crowded around him because he was the 'new thing'. “Well, they _do_ listen when you threaten their titles.” Her hand his softly placed on his upper arm and she squeezes lightly, leaning to whisper into his ear, her other hand lingering at his lower back and a shiver runs down his spine at the thought of it slipping lower. “-And if I turn on the charm, they seem to gravitate _away_ from those I bring into my bedchamber.” Her milky white teeth scrape at his earlobe before she pulls away, something twitching with interest at the thought of seeing what was beneath all of that expensive cloth she was covered in. “Are you insinuating something, My Lady?” His voice is low, rough and his mouth feels dry, there's a carnal instinct growing within to take her right there and not care who sees, but he rather thinks they would get thrown out for that, never mind the shit he would get from Neha. “I don't know, am I?” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and suckles on it and the heat in the pit of his stomach grows, his care about any interested parties watching them flying out the window with his resolve, the need within him struggling against the confines of his guarded self. “I suppose I rather should ask. Do you wish me to be?” “Yes.” Its breathless and low and comes out in a growl but he doesn't care because he knows she _hears_ it, her tone dropping as she presses herself against him in effort to keep their conversation private. “There's a door behind us, to the left. It leads out to the garden and to a side entrance, Orlesians _always_ have a place to sneak away for illicit activities. Find your way out before dark and I will be there, yes?” Her hand slides down to grip his growing arousal through his breeches, the way in which she was standing just enough to hide her gesture, though nothing can mask the deep snarl that rips through his throat at the feeling.

 

He manages to slip away unnoticed, after Leliana had watched him for what seemed like an eternity, especially with something throbbing in his breeches, pressing against his undergarments, almost painful at that. Her breasts are heaving against the tight corset they're confined in, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip as her eyes search for him in the dim evening light. It is a beautiful sight, truly, to see that waiting for him, to know that she wanted _him_ , out of all of the men in Thedas she could've had. He would not doubt it if she had wormed her way into some king or queen's bed many a times.

 

She pulls him through darkened alleys and tight spaces between extravagant homes until they get to a set of stairs he can barely make out in the darkness, her voice barely a whisper in the light wind that settled around them. “You are.. You are _sure_?” Purple eyes shine at him and for a moment he had forgotten that she was a person, too. One who experienced rejection and _pain_. He breathes softly, stepping forward to look into her eyes, placing his hands on either side of her face before kissing her, her hands flailing before settling in his curls, his tongue exploring her mouth before he rips himself away, breathing heavily. “Maker, _y_ _es_.”

 

He wakes to sunlight coming through a stained glass window, and a thought crosses his mind that the night previously had been a dream, except that that thought is proved wrong by the soft breathing sounds of his lover sleeping soundly, her head leaned on his chest, golden curls of hair fanning out behind her. It was truly breathtaking, and honestly Cullen didn't want the moment to ever end. Thoughts of what had happened the night before filter through his head, and _oh_ , he hopes the Maker wasn't watching the whole time.

 

Seeing her underneath him in all of her glory, soft plains of skin, wet folds he could press his lips against, taut nipples that raised a moan from her when he suckled on them, teasing her with kisses and bites and he was _marking her_. Mine. Mine. Maker, let the heavens know she is _mine_ and I am hers. Pulling her to release over and over until she was spent and sleep took over them both, his nightmares fleeing him for one night, a truly warm, beautiful human being sleeping next to him. Part of him didn't want to ruin her with his darkness. He slips off back into sleep before he is woken next, Arietta's lips pressing against the underside of his jaw, peppering soft kisses until she reached his mouth, her light figure hovering over him. “Hello.” She presses a soft kiss to the scar on his upper lip before gaining leverage at his mouth, tongue slipping in easily and being met by a most likely sloppy, half-awake, Fereldan morning kiss. Maker, he could get used to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they dID THE SEEEEXXXXX coughs what


End file.
